


In His Own Skin

by Just_A_Villain



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_A_Villain/pseuds/Just_A_Villain
Summary: Returning to Beacon Hills was uncomfortable for Derek. Not because he had anything to hide, quite the opposite. When everyone in town feels like they know you, and all eyes find their way to you when you walk down the street, it can be suffocating. And yet, here he is. Back in Beacon Hills. Back to where he never belonged in the first place. Back to where his skin doesn't fit.And Derek can't breathe.





	In His Own Skin

The fumes in the shower smelled of something familiar. Foul, but familiar. The stench was that of loss. An odor so strong it would not leave Derek’s form, no matter how hard he scrubbed when he bathed. Bathing was a loose term, for his skin was raw after every wash. His hands took the form of steel wool as he raked them over his body, desperately trying to free himself from the bonds of his reason. The reason. The reason why he was back. Derek was, for the first time in seven years, taking a shower in his rebuilt childhood home. The one that up until four days ago, his parents had resided in. Now they rest in the Beacon Hills County cemetery. Derek sometimes wishes he was there too. Instead, he was bathing, getting clean in preparation for his first day out of the house since the funeral. The idea of coming back to Beacon Hills had been a nightmare. Now add his current circumstances, and you have the ingredients for a worst- case scenario.

Derek turned the knob of the shower with a shaking hand. The water stopped. The only sound he could hear was the remaining drips from the shower head, and the wind. He exited the bathroom, and went down the hall towards his new, old room. The hall had a rustic feel to it, leaves printed on the wallpaper, dozens of wooden picture frames, and warm lighting. The picture frames were empty. Derek couldn’t bear to see his family anymore. They were happy once. They were whole once. 

When he reached his room, he assessed his appearance in the large ornate mirror that hung above his mahogany dresser. His dark brown hair now appeared black due to the fact that it was wet. Droplets of water still clung to his long lashes, and acted as a distraction to draw attention away from his eyes. But in the end, there was no hiding his eyes. The two green orbs were like jade, light green and icy. His olive complexion did nothing to counteract the striking color of his eyes. These days he couldn’t even look at his own eyes without feeling pangs of sadness. They were just like his mother’s.  
Derek opened his large closet and glanced over the clothes inside. There were only six garments hung up, the rest of the closet was just an empty hole. He reached for a burgundy henley shirt and a pair of black jeans. He slid into the pants and zipped and buttoned them. He gazed once again into the mirror and looked over his torso. Derek had never been scrawny, even in his teen years. His father had always been proud of how strong his son was, what with the fact that his father had been a deputy and all. Derek was now a man with a decent build, muscular and strong. Far beyond the child he once was. Of course, his father never saw him with his current physique. Now he could only imagine how his father would react to the man he had become.  
Derek threw on the rest of his clothes, a black leather jacket and some utilitarian boots, and headed down the stairs to the front door. He locked it with care, hearing the echos of his mother reminding him to do so. He winced as he made his way to his vehicle. A black truck, large and imposing, just like his emotional baggage.

As he made his way into town, he listened to music. Classical. The soothing sounds calmed his nerves. He was anxious at the thought of seeing old familiar faces. Derek had already been gawked at during the funeral, surely the gossip about him would be running wild around town. Small towns love gossip.  
Derek parked his truck at the neighborhood grocery store. He got out, and immediately looked at the sky. A typical Beacon Hills sky. Overcast. No visible sun. Whisps of clouds blanketed the entire sky, blocking out any light. This left the town with a gloomy haze, dimly lit and somber. Derek shook his head and made his way into the store. Each cart was rickety and old, wheels wobbling as they rolled. He picked one with the least visible issues. Mentally Derek reviewed his shopping list. Bread, eggs, milk, but not skim because that is just criminal, bacon, shredded cheese specifically the four-cheese blend, cottage cheese, granola, but not the cheap granola, and coffee beans. He smiled politely at Mrs…. O’Malley. That was it, O’Malley. She was one of the oldest women in the town, her blue rinse perm showing that. She, in response, let her mouth fall agape. Derek frowned then turned his attention to the aisles and aisles of food.  
Once Derek was ready to check out, he cringed at the sight of the checkout worker. Susan Dilmount. Town gossip. At 49 and 5’ 3”, she was the smallest, scariest woman he had ever met. She smiled, revealing perfect teeth. Her father, William Dilmount D.D.S., was the town dentist. Derek smiled back and placed his items on the conveyor belt.

“So, Derek Hale. How is New York treating you?” 

This left Derek wondering how she found out where he ran away to, considering it was on the opposite coast of the country. 

“It was just fine, Susan.” 

“I'm glad. It has been awful quiet around these parts, well, that is, before the accident.”

This made Derek recoil. Such a direct reference to what happened was just cruel.

“I'm sure, Susan.”

“Well, you Hale kids were always so free spirited and loud. Without them, and without you, things quieted down considerably.”

Derek took a calming deep breath. He heard the ghost of a voice in his ear. Derek, deep breaths, brother. She is just prying. She wants a reaction from you so she can go report it back to her gossipy bitch friends. Derek laughed under his breath at the sound of Cora’s attitude. Cora was his younger sister. Only by a year! He could hear her retort. 

“I don't mean any offense, Derek. I just mean, well, we all miss having you around. That fire changed this town. Forever.”

Derek just gathered his paid for goods and put them into bags. Susan got the message loud and clear and turned away from him. As he gathered his bags and walked towards the door, he heard behind him: “Take care, Derek.”

Derek entered his truck once more. He quickly drove away from the dilapidated grocery store and all the memories it dredged up.  
Derek was not an only child. He had five siblings. Had. Seven years ago, his house burned to the ground, effectively ending the lives of everyone he loved most. Well, almost everyone. His parents were out having a date night, leaving his sister Laura, aged 20 at the time, to watch all 4 of her younger siblings. Derek himself was spending the night at a friend's house, sparing him from the tragedy. The tragedy. His tragedy. The remaining Hale family members, Derek, aged 19 at the time, and his parents, Bruce and Talia Hale, worked to rebuild their home. Derek wanted no part in that. When most of the rebuild was complete, a year had gone by. He was 20, and desperate for an escape. 

So, escape he did.

New York became his home. He attended NYU as a History major, with a minor in Education. If he couldn't help himself, he could help students. He used his portion of the Hale family fortune to attend such a prestigious university, and his work ethic got him far. He was 2 years into his Master's degree when he got the call.

“Is this Derek Hale? This is the sheriff of Beacon Hills.”

A car accident. One drunk driver swerving into the wrong lane. That's all it took to destroy his family, leaving him the last Hale standing at the age of 26. Derek. Couldn't. Breathe. Derek still can't breathe, as he pulls his truck into the driveway of his new, old home. 

He hasn't been able to breathe in eight years. 

Not in New York. 

Not in Beacon Hills. 

Not in his own skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my re-imagining of how it would be for Derek to return/character study into the mind of Derek Hale. Feel free to comment what you thought!


End file.
